The World's a Stage
by Joon
Summary: Sequel to The Best of Me  Harry clashes with his newly appointed guardian. TVverse.


As this is a sequel to **"The Best of Me"**, you'll need to read that one in order for this one to make any sense.

I promise that these Trickster-starring segments are leading to some sort of conclusion. It's just a matter of carving out a time to write them all out.

* * *

Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he realized how ridiculous it was that after facing off skin walkers and vampires, he was about to die at the hands of Lake Michigan. Although, to his credit he was technically about to die at the hands of a Djinn, who had been largely responsible for tossing him in the middle of the lake to begin with. The frigid waters closed over the wizard, rendering his already exhausted arms immobile. And after the initial panic and feeble attempt at swimming, Harry could feel his mind slipping toward unconsciousness, and no doubt death, as he was pulled under for the last time. 

But just as the last of the his lucidity flickered and sputtered like a withering flame, a strong hand suddenly snagged the collar of his sodden jacket and pulled. The save was hardly gentle or friendly and Harry found himself being unceremoniously slammed onto the shore with enough force for the water in his lungs to be slapped out. Rolling onto his side with some considerable effort, the wizard coughed and hacked the rest of Michigan out of his system. When he blinked his eyes open, he saw his savior and groaned.

"Leave me alone," the wizard moaned. Though the frigid air had made his lips nearly immobile and the statement came out as more of an indecipherable slur.

"That's gratitude for you," grumbled the trickster, who seemed to have no problems understanding Harry's frozen speech. "I had to ditch a meeting with a client to drag your ass out of Lake Michigan."

The angry glare Harry threw at the demi-god lost the wanted intensity as he practically jerked on the ground with all his shivering. If it was possible, it felt even colder than it had been in the water. "Who asked you?" he demanded through chattering teeth.

"You are really setting the bar high for annoying," the trickster replied instead. "I can't spend every day chasing after you. Can't you spend ONE night at home?"

"Leave me alone," the wizard repeated, having gotten up to at least his hands and knees. The hard rocks dug into the palms of his hands and Harry realized his hockey stick was now lost, floating somewhere in the middle of the lake.

"Believe me, I'd love to," the trickster answered. "But a deal's a deal and I've already gotten my payment so I can't back out on it now. What were you thinking anyway talking to a Djinn? Did you really think it was going to help you?" he continued, shaking his head. "Man, I almost feel sorry for you because you're so stupid."

Any retort Harry had for that was lost as he concentrated on bending his knees to lift himself off the ground. Watching the wizard struggle, the trickster grasped the dripping arm and pulled. In the two seconds it took to yank Harry to his feet, the wizard was now dry and felt remarkably warmer. "There. Nice and toasty. What do you say?" the trickster prompted.

Harry responded by connecting his fist with the trickster's smiling face.

The demi-god's head snapped back with a pop. "Ow!" he exclaimed, slapping a hand to his eye. "That actually hurt!"

"Good, that's the idea," Harry retorted.

Blinking past the injury, the trickster glared. "Don't ever punch a demi-god, Dresden," he warned. Any possible bruise had already been taken care of as the trickster touched his eye again. "I'm starting to think Bainbridge pulled a fast one saddling me with you. I should have asked for a bigger payment."

Harry launched himself at the trickster again, though this time he easily avoided the swing. Harry's anger made his attacks vicious, but clumsy and desperate. A quick shove from the trickster had him back on the ground. "Be glad I'm charged with protecting you. Or else I would have killed you by now," he warned, bending over the wizard.

"Why did you do it?" demanded Harry. His hands bunched into fists again, though he stayed down.

"I made a deal. It's what I do."

"No," he whispered, hoarsely. "Why did you destroy him?" He glared up at the trickster who stood silently over him. "Why did you do it? There was no reason…"

"I had a reason," said the trickster, cryptically. "Look, I did your ghost a favor. You might not see it now, but in the end I did him a service."

"You killed him!" Harry yelled.

"Don't be such a drama queen. You can't kill a ghost."

"You know what I mean! You…" The wizard suddenly felt drained, doubt creeping up in his mind. And despair at the idea that for all his anger, he was powerless in reversing what had been done. He sagged on the wet shore, feeling the chill of Chicago's fall again.

Seeing the sorry state his unwanted charge was in, the demi-god bent over to get a better look at the wizard's face. "You're not going to cry, are you?" he asked, half-disgusted, half-horrified. "Oh, for Odin's sake, pull yourself together, Dresden! Man up!"

"Leave me alone."

"How the hell did Bainbridge stand you for all those years?" the trickster demanded, frustrated. "YOU inspired that much loyalty? I can't believe it."

"Go away!" Harry shouted.

Throwing his hands up in the air, the trickster heaved a defeated sigh. He made a move to turn around and leave the wizard where he lay, but paused and considered the huddled figure. "Listen," he began with purposeful force. "Being your therapist isn't part of the package, but I'm going to consider it insurance to earn myself some down time and not have to chase after you and your suicidal missions."

"Just-"

"Leave you alone," finished the trickster. "I get it. But you need to get it into your head that I won't be able to do that. And if you think getting yourself killed is going to solve anything, you're wrong. All it's going to do is squander the life your friend bought for you with his own." When Harry didn't reply with another retort or insult, the trickster took it as an optimistic sign. "Take my advice. Let it go."

"I'm not taking advice from you," the wizard growled. He pulled himself up to his feet again with renewed, focused anger. "I'm going to get him back," he stated.

"The next time Bainbridge sees you, Dresden, he's not going to care if his new keeper incinerates you on spot," replied the trickster.

"I'm going to get Bob back," Harry repeated. "I'm going to find someone who'll give me answers and I'm going to get him back. And you," he added, stabbing a finger at the trickster. "Stay out of my way. You try to stop me and I'll chain your ass back to your rock. You can take your protection and shove it."

"Fine, I tried," gestured the trickster, helplessly. "You really want to spend the rest of your life pissing off every supernatural being with your death wish mission, fine. But I have to hold up my end of the bargain, so wherever you go, I go."

"Just stay out of my way."

"Just stop repeating yourself," the trickster mocked back. "We are conversing in English. I do understand what you're saying to me the first time around."

"Fuck you," Harry spat, turning on his heel and walking away. Already in his mind, he began to think on how to retrieve his lost staff. He'd need it for his next visit.

"Classy, Dresden," the trickster called after the departing wizard. "20 years with Bainbridge and that's all you've got?" Harry continued on with his determined march in silence. "Have fun combing the entire known pantheon to find someone who's got nothing better to do but help your pathetic self!" he shouted. The trickster watched as Harry moved further and further away from him, out of ear shot. Watching the wizard's diminishing figure, a slow smile crept up on the trickster's lips. "You only need to find the right one," he added. "And where you go, I go."

THE END


End file.
